La La Land
by SunnyCait
Summary: Brittana Future!fic, Mostly Baby Fluff, limited angst, no friggin' idea how to summarize. Just trying to cling to a sinking ship!


**A/N: Been kinda dabbling around with a few ideas and decided to string it all together. I'm not giving up on this ship, damn it. I'm going to continue to live in La La Land and all of you are free to join me.**

* * *

"Brittany, I'm home!"

As it turned out Santana needn't have yelled, as her wife was already in the living room, kneeling inside a large black metal crate and spreading a blanket across the plastic pan covering the bottom. Santana frowned, dropping her purse by the front door as she shut it and pointing towards the new piece of furniture in their sparsely decorated home.

They'd only just recently moved into this house, Santana having wanted to wait until she had a more secure source of income where she wouldn't have to worry about meeting a larger mortgage payment each month, so they hadn't had much time to fill it with anything yet. The crate was a little too hard to hide, that was if Brittany had bothered to try, which she hadn't, as it was _right_ where Santana had been envisioning a huge entertainment stand with a 55 inch flat screen, straight across from the couch they'd brought from their old apartment.

Her frown deepened, jabbing her already pointed finger towards the offending object.

"What's that?"

"Hi, baby!" Brittany chirped, ignoring the brunette's question and backing out of the crate, sitting upright on her haunches and flashing a huge grin over her shoulder before she returned to her task, straightening the side of the blanket closest to the door. "How was your day at work?"

Still frowning, Santana shook her head, not allowing herself to be deterred that easily.

"Is that a dog kennel?"

"It's _for_ a dog, yes, but I would like for you to refer to it as a dog _den_, if you wouldn't mind. I already hate the idea of keeping a dog caged up, but all the books say it's actually good for them when they're potty training and stuff, and makes them feel secure." Brittany said all of this with the nonchalance of letting Santana know she would have to stay late at the studio tomorrow.

"We don't have a dog, Brittany," Santana pressed, brow furrowing into a scowl. "So we don't need a dog kennel."

"Den," Brittany corrected, still not bothering to turn around and face her girlfriend. Santana walked in a little further to where she was standing by the crate now, facing Brittany with her arms crossed. She waited until Brittany glanced up and made a face.

"Regardless of what it's called, we don't have a dog."

Brittany gave her a look, sniffed, and smoothed wrinkles from the blanket.

"Well, we're getting a dog. I bought the den already and I bought some food dishes, some toys, even a leash."

"Brittany." Santana didn't want to be cruel, but the thought of being even only half responsible for another living thing (well besides Brittany, which was enough most days) was not at the top of her priority list at the moment. She had to be gentle with Brittany though if she wanted her to listen at all and not just pout until she got her way.

"We only moved into this place like two months ago. You killed the plant Kurt got us as a housewarming gift, and the betta we brought over from the apartment had been belly up for weeks in that bowl, you just neglected to tell anyone he'd died."

"Losing Ceviche was very hard for me, Santana; I needed time to grieve," Brittany countered, forgetting the blanket and looking up at Santana with a hurt expression. When she saw the brunette wasn't having any of it, she went on. "And the plant was ugly anyway. But don't tell Kurt I said that."

"A dog is a lot more responsibility than either of us is ready for right now, Britt. I'm working on set practically every day for sixteen hours; you have your job at the dance studio... I'm not trying to be mean; I just don't think it's the right time." Santana sat on the floor then, cross-legged and letting her knee touch Brittany's.

"But I'm bored when you're not here, Santana. You work more than I do, and I'm home by myself a lot."

"I get how that can be boring, but you have a lot of other stuff you love to do... You could revive Fondue for Two if you're looking for something to fill your time, you know?"

Brittany sighed, setting her elbow on her knee and resting her head in her hand. She resumed pouting for a few more seconds before a look of clarity ran across her face.

She now set her chin on both of her hands and smiled serenely at her wife, making Santana uneasy. She didn't have long to wait before Brittany dropped her bomb.

"Well then, I want to talk about having a baby."

Santana gaped at her, mouth slack and eyes widened. And she thought a _dog _was not feasible.

"I'm sorry, where is this coming from? You buy all this stuff for a dog without even talking to me about it, and now you want to discuss a baby? What's the matter with you?"

"There's nothing the matter with me!" Brittany exclaimed, her brow furrowed. "I just want what everyone else has. We've been married three years, we just bought a house, and our careers are going well... What's the matter with wanting a family, too?"

"We _have_ a family, Brittany; it's called a family of two." Santana held up two fingers in her wife's face. "Very economical and green. Besides, neither a dog nor a baby is a way to cure your boredom. They're both big, expensive, time consuming, life changing things to add into our already hectic lives. It's just not the right time."

"When would the right time be then? When we're forty? When you're still working sixteen hours a day on set? Which you only do maybe six months out of the year, I might add. When I'm no longer working at all, which, frankly, we could afford now?" When Santana's eyebrows rose Brittany nodded, a smug expression on her face. "I checked the finances first. You're making enough."

"I knew I shouldn't have hired Puck as my accountant," Santana said with a frown, knowing the still mohawked idiot would have had little problem enabling Brittany's big ideas just to spite her. She watched the blonde's face for a little while, seeing no hint at a compromise (which Santana thought might include just a rather large houseplant).

"I'm just saying. It's doable, if you're willing to make that type of commitment."

"To a dog or a kid?" Santana asked, confused.

"To me, dummy. Or do you never want to be anything more than a family of two?"

"Of course I want these things, Brittany, with you and only you. Just... this feels sudden. It's not like I was expecting this conversation and dog crate first thing when I walk in the door."

"It's a damn den!" Brittany said irritably. She scooted further away from Santana, turning back to the crate and smoothing out the blanket she'd lain in there a little more. After a short stony silence she spoke again, in a hurt voice. "It's fine if you don't want a family with me."

Sighing, Santana reached for Brittany and laid a hand between her shoulder blades. She hated being the bad guy. She rubbed small, consoling circles on the blonde's back and thought for a few long seconds. If this is what Brittany wanted to feel secure, to feel like her life was going in an upwards direction, then who was she to argue, really? In the end, didn't she make a vow to always make Brittany happy, whenever it was possible? She sighed again, feeling slightly like she'd been manipulated but knowing Brittany meant it in a good way. She knew she did eventually want a family with Brittany, and if her wife thought they were ready, who was she to say they weren't? They did have their ducks in a row, and Santana knew without a doubt she'd be spending the rest of her life with the blonde. Besides, the image of a little her or Brittany running around was kind of endearing if not slightly frightening, in a new and unknown kind of way. She wondered why it was always Brittany pushing them in the right direction but decided it didn't matter, knowing what she had to do to make this all right again.

Tugging on her wife's shoulder, she kept her face stoic until Brittany was looking at her and they had kept their gaze for a few moments. Letting one corner of her mouth turn up, Santana tried to keep her voice serious.

"Well which is it, a dog or a baby? Because you're not getting both."


End file.
